


Hopefully if he looked casual enough, people wouldn't notice that he was awkward and alone.

by yukiawison



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enjolras is punk rock, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Patron-Minette is a band, anxious Marius, music festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd love to go with you Marius, but I promised Sette I'd go with her to visit her dad this weekend. It's a big deal you know, girlfriend meeting the family," Eponine sounded sentimentally proud. It suited her voice, Marius decided. "Maybe you could ask someone at work? Or uh..."</p><p>"It's fine Ep don't worry about me," he said, tugging on the end of his shirt where he'd done the buttons up wrong.</p><p>Marius was shocked to have won tickets in the first place. He didn't usually call in to radio shows. Just when he'd get up the nerve, someone else would beat him to it, saving him the trouble of dialing the number with shaky fingers and stuttering out something ridiculous on the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hopefully if he looked casual enough, people wouldn't notice that he was awkward and alone.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taliatheloser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taliatheloser/gifts).



"I'd love to go with you Marius, but I promised Sette I'd go with her to visit her dad this weekend. It's a big deal you know, girlfriend meeting the family," Eponine sounded sentimentally proud. It suited her voice, Marius decided. "Maybe you could ask someone at work? Or uh..."

"It's fine Ep don't worry about me," he said, tugging on the end of his shirt where he'd done the buttons up wrong.

Marius was shocked to have won tickets in the first place. He didn't usually call in to radio shows. Just when he'd get up the nerve, someone else would beat him to it, saving him the trouble of dialing the number with shaky fingers and stuttering out something ridiculous on the air.

He wasn't sure what came over him the day he'd actually gotten up the courage. The station was asking about a little known French artist he'd heard a few songs from. And when the host spat out some garbled French, asking someone to finish the lyric, Marius Pontmercy rose to the occasion. If there was one thing he was good at it was awkward translations of obscure music.

In truth he didn't much want to go. He wasn't a fan of crowds, and with Eponine and Cosette occupied for the weekend, he didn't have any friends to go with.

Eponine had been silent too long; her guilt was tangible.

"Seriously Eponine, I'm fine. Have fun with Sette, tell her dad hi for me."

"Thanks I will. And Marius?"

"Yeah?"

"You should still go. I know you're probably gonna sell the tickets and retreat back to that god awful couch of yours with some musty old book...but try living a little maybe?"

He bit his lip, looking down at his pajama pants and striped socks. He was surrounded by chicken scratch notes and a number of "musty old books" he was translating portions of. He'd slowly been sinking further into the overstuffed couch; one of its springs pressed uncomfortably into his back every time he fished around in the growing pile of inky translations.

Beside him, on the end table was a blender full of banana smoothie with a straw stuck in it. Maybe she was right.

"I'll um, think about it."

"Ep? You packed yet?" Marius heard Cosette's voice in the background noise.

"I'll see you Monday Marius, have fun," her tone was bordering on insistent.

"Thanks, bye." He hung up, unraveling himself from the mess of supplies and grabbing the smoothie. He padded into the kitchen and flipped on the radio.

"You're listening to 93.1 WHKZ, your guide to RevFest 2015. We've got big names this year: Logistical Nightmares, Hella Repulsion, Martin Van Ruin..."

Marius tuned out, shuffling through his freezer in search of a Hot Pocket.

"And the talk of tonight is emerging band Patron-Minette known for their punk anthem Posterboy Scumbag. Let's take a listen..."

Some harsh sounding electric guitar bled into Marius's kitchen. He had located the Hot Pockets, beneath a heap of frozen vegetables and a pizza in a soggy cardboard box. As Patron-Minette's lead singer screamed the chorus Marius attempted to dislodge the box, putting one hand on the vegetable stack, and giving the Hot Pockets beneath a swift yank.

"We'll have live coverage all weekend so stay tuned in for..."

A package of brussel sprouts was flung off the the top of the stack, nailing Marius in the forehead. A string of obscenities later he was laying on his back in the middle of his kitchen, brussel sprouts beneath his chin, Hot Pockets clutched to his chest.

"It's sure to be a great weekend down here," some guy the host was interviewing shouted over a cheering crowd. "Get your tickets before they're gone."

"Screw it," Marius muttered. He got up, threw the Hot Pockets back in the fridge, and went to take a shower.

***  
The parking lot was crowded by the time he got there. Girls with tinted sunglasses and frayed shorts clustered among guys with skinny jeans and band t-shirts. The grass around the massive lot was crowded with tents and trailers.

RevFest, he'd read on Wikipedia as he brushed his teeth, was the 12th largest music festival in the country, and featured predominantly punk, indie, and alternative bands. It sounded more Eponine's speed than his; Marius was guilty listener of the top 40, the occasional Beatles album, and not much else.

He pulled into a free spot near the back and and fished the tickets out of the glove compartment. He stole a look at himself in the rear view mirror, squinting at the bruise that had blossomed on his right temple. He wrinkled his nose, freckled and shiny from the sunscreen he'd smeared on.

He ran a hand through his hair, and put on his best suave and aloof face. Hopefully if he looked casual enough, people wouldn't notice that he was awkward and alone. He could always sell the tickets before if he lost his nerve on the long walk from the parking lot to the curling lines of sun soaked concert goers.

He fell into step with the crowd. Dodging large friend groups and couples. He started to feel queasy by the time the big red banner displaying the band names was in sight. He stopped, and the people behind him pushed past in irritation.

"Jehan are you sure you can't get me a ticket? Yeah I know I'm late but c'mon. Ask Parnasse pleeeeeeaase?"

Marius turned around, squinting in the sun.

The voice fell a bit. "Oh okay, yeah I understand. No I'm sorry it's cool. Don't worry I'll see if I can find someone who's selling."

The man hung up and looked down at his phone. He sighed, pushing his sunglasses up so they perched atop his dark curls. He tugged at the strap of his dark tank top, and relaxed his stance, shifting his sandals in the gravel.

Marius was still blocking traffic, but it was hard to care when the extraordinarily cute solution to his problem was standing right in front of him.

"I um...excuse me?" The guy looked up, smiling politely at Marius.

"Yeah?"

"I have an extra ticket if you need one. I couldn't help but overhear..."

"Really dude? You have a ticket you're not using?" The guy's eyes lit up and he took a few steps closer.

"Yeah, I um...do you want it?"

"You are a lifesaver man," the guy pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "How much do you want for it?"

Marius hadn't thought that far ahead, and the cute guy was looking at him all expectant and happy and he couldn't really catch his breath. So, in typical Marius fashion, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You can just take both tickets. I didn't pay for them in the first place. I mean I won them over the radio I didn't steal them or anything. I don't really go to concerts. I've never been to a festival and I don't know any of the bands so it's almost like trespassing, masquerading as a real fan and all. And besides I don't have anyone to go with anyway so you should just take...I'm sorry I'm rambling. Here," he thrust the tickets into cute guy's hands and made to leave.

"Hey, wait!" Marius froze.

"I can't just take your tickets. That'd be a crime."

"No seriously, I don't want any money..."

"It'd be a crime to deprive you of the so called musical stylings of my friend's boyfriend's band," he smirked. "Seriously, my friends would have my head on a stick if they found out I let a prospective fan leave before the show even starts."

"I don't have anyone to..."

"You've got me. I'm Courfeyrac." Courfeyrac extended a hand and Marius took it.

"Marius," he said, stunned. "Are you sure you don't mind me..."

"Don't be ridiculous Marius. You need a friend, I need a ticket. It's a win win," Courfeyrac said, looking him up and down. "To be honest I got the better end of the deal. Come on Marius, we'll be late." Courfeyrac grinned.

***

"So you're a translator huh? That sounds rad. I took some French classes in college." Courfeyrac was tapping his feet to the music, they weren't inside yet; the line was inching forward slowly. Flip flops were starting to melt into the gravel, and the people ahead of them kept checking their watches and crossing their arms.

Courfeyrac however, was still chipper, making conversation easily and gesticulating with a casual energy Marius was still trying to figure out.

In 15 minutes they'd burned through Marius's hobbies (Courfeyrac was either genuinely interested in model sailboats or a very convincing actor,) his translation work, and pension for old books and striped shirts.

"What was your major?" Marius asked.

"Film, well broadcasting and film, but my true love is film. I'm working on some short films, trying to get into the longer stuff. Not much money in it yet," he said. "But you've gotta do what you love you know? You've gotta do what you do best no matter who's telling you not to."

Marius nodded. It wasn't a philosophy he'd grown up hearing, but he understood it now.

"Of course sometimes I have to put my films on the back burner for my day job."

"What's your day job?"

He grinned. "Boom operator at a local TV station. I'm working my way up."

The line was moving more quickly now, and Marius was about to direct the conversation back to Courfeyrac's films (more to see his pretty eyes light up again than he was willing to admit) when they reached the entrance.

"Tickets please," the man scanning tickets looked tired and sunburnt already.

Courfeyrac presented the tickets proudly as if the man was privy to the trials and tribulations of obtaining them.

"Enjoy the show."

"Oh, we will," Courfeyrac replied, offering Marius his hand.

He stared at it a moment, perplexed, and then nodded affirmatively. Courfeyrac's eyes lit once more as he gripped Marius's hand and led him into the already chaotic RevFest.

"We should find my friends. Enj is going to be so pissed. I hope you don't mind my holding your hand. I got horribly lost at my first festival and I wouldn't want the same thing to happen to you."

Marius didn't mind. Courfeyrac's hand was solid and reassuring, like Cosette's when she walked him home in the rain.

"I don't mind."

Courfeyrac shielded his eyes with his unoccupied hand before remembering his sunglasses and flipping them down from his curls. "I think I see them."

Marius allowed himself to be pulled through crowd.

"Ferre, hey Combeferre!" A bespectacled man wearing a very exasperated expression, and carrying a cardboard box turned around.

"Jesus Courf, now you make it. Here, hold this for a sec," Courfeyrac had to drop Marius's hand to take the box.

"Jehan was flipping out, thinking you weren't going to get in. And Joly forgot hand sanitizer so he's been running around trying to find someone who looks like they'd carry one of those pocket sized containers so he can buy it off of them. And of course Enj is pissy because R is doing the sound for Patron-Minette now and we made that group decision not to tell him. And I've got to get this merchandise to the booth before Montparnasse throws a combat boot or tube of eyeliner at someone and..."

"Combeferre this is Marius Pontmercy," Courfeyrac cut in. Combeferre sighed, but it seemed more out of exhaustion than annoyance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Combeferre pushed up his glasses, and shook Marius's hand. "I'd have rather it been under calmer, more composed circumstances but the chances of that are slim around festival season."

"Nice to meet you too," Marius replied, feeling better about his chance of blending in with the crowd now that there were three of them. "Festival season?"

"Oh, right!" Courfeyrac shifted his grip on the box. "This is Marius's first festival. He won two tickets on a radio show and gave me his extra."

Combeferre's mouth curled up. "Well you're a lifesaver Marius." He was glad he hadn't asked why Marius showed up alone to a festival.

"Some people don't purchase tickets ahead of time even if their friends can get a group discount on online orders," Combeferre eyed Courfeyrac who shrugged.

"I forgot. You've seen my calendar," Courfeyrac said. "I write everything on post-its," he added to Marius

"Well, we set up by the vegan burrito stand on the far left side, down near the front," Combeferre said. "When in doubt look for the angry blonde in the red shirt."

Combeferre took the box back and started off in the direction of the merchandise booths.

"Shall we?" Courfeyrac had linked his hand in Marius's again.

"Montparnasse is refusing to take my suggestions," a somewhat threatening looking blonde man glared at Courfeyrac.

"What were these suggestions exactly Enjolras?" The man crossed his arms and gritted his teeth. His appearance exuded punk with his ripped jean vest with patches and pins Marius presumed were either band names or political commentary, dark skinny jeans with nails to match, muddy combat boots, and crimson t-shirt.

"He wants him to play some of his songs," a pretty person with a flowery vest finished. "Courf, you got in," they said.

"Marius this is Jehan Prouvaire and this is Enjolras."

"Nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure Marius," Jehan said.

"Nice to meet you," Enjolras growled. "Parnasse has the means to broadcast our ideas to a broad audience. Can't you talk some sense into him? He's your boyfriend."

"And it's his show," Jehan said calmly, despite the menacing tone of their friend. "Are you sure this isn't about something else?"

"More like someone," Courfeyrac whispered to Marius. "Our friend Grantaire, we call him R, who used to be in Enjolras' band left to do sound work for a bunch of bands in different festivals. We didn't tell him he was going to be doing stuff for Patron-Minnete."

"Why does he care so much?" Marius whispered.

"I suspect that Enj is starting to realize he's got a thing for the guy. Of course R's been in love with him for years."

"Sounds complicated."

"A regular soap opera."

"Have you talked to R?" Jehan said, changing the subject abruptly. Enjolras blushed.

"No, why would I...? Look, forget it," he huffed.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "You wanna meet R Marius? We can check out all the sound stuff."

"Sure," he replied. Enjolras was looking at them with an expression that reminded Marius of an angry cat.

"Come along Enj, got to get it over with sometime."

They weaved through the crowd, the energy of their festival goers increasing as the start time for the first set grew nearer. It was electric, and overwhelming, like when Marius and grandfather used to fight. Harsh words and unforgiving digs at his no good father and lack of friends. Those fights always stung, but filled him with a sense of power, an anger to keep him going.

On the way, Enjolras got caught up in an argument he overheard strangers having about the evolution of alternative rock. He promised he'd catch up with them once he'd convinced the disgruntled man with a mohawk that he was wrong.

Grantaire had dark hair and sharp eyes, a beer bottle dangled from one of his hands, the other was adjusting an unlabeled knob on the soundboard. "Try that," he said into his headset.

"R, remember me?" Courf said lightly.

"Jesus Courfeyrac it's been too long," they hugged, some of R's beer sloshing onto the grass. "Is everyone here?"

"Indeed, meet Marius my extra ticket wielding savior."

"Thank god for you then," R shook his hand warmly.

"Enjolras is behind us. He wants to see you," Courfeyrac said. R tensed.

"He angry still?"

"I'd say he's more understanding, willing to talk whatever you two have going on out."

R scowled. "Right, cause he's going to listen to the drunk now?" he said through gritted teeth.

Enjolras pushed his way to them.

"Grantaire," he said breathlessly. His posture was closed off, arms crossed, shoulders hunched.

He used to watch romantic comedies with Cosette back when she and Ep were just flirting and they were single together. "Look how she keeps turning away from him? She's afraid, she doesn't want to be hurt so she doesn't dare look at him. But his body's so open to her, so welcoming." A combination of ballet and social work had made her expert at analyzing dime a dozen movies where lost lovers reconnected on city streets, tossing passionate letters in the mail, and dodging heart wrenching misunderstandings with their quirky comedic relief sidekicks.

"What are you doing here?" He asked bluntly.

"Sound, for Patron-Minette. You didn't wonder where I disappeared to?" R said, his eyes glossed over Enjolras, as if taking stock of him, assessing all he'd missed when they'd been apart.

"I did actually. You never told me where you were going."

"I thought..." He looked to Courfeyrac quizzically. He shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd care to know," he said at last.

"Oh course I would. I care about you."

"You do?"

Enjolras flushed angrily. "Yes...I do."

Grantaire looked genuinely surprised. He took a sip from his beer contemplatively. "Okay then, I'm sorry. I should've told you."

"Apology accepted."

"Well we should, uh, go R...Marius and I haven't eaten yet. See you later."

Courfeyrac took Marius's hand and pulled him away before Enjolras had the chance to follow them.

"What do you want? Lunch is on me."

"You don't have to do that. I can buy..."

"Shush, what do you want? Burrito? Ice cream? Both? I'm thinking both."

Marius laughed. "I'm not going to object to that."

The first band came on shortly after they'd finished eating. (He'd already witnessed Courfeyrac chase a drip of chocolate ice cream down his arm.)

"Courfeyrac! You're here!" A man threw his arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

"Drunk already Joly?"

"Musichetta and Bossuet are getting more drinks, don't you worry," Joly said. "Who's this?"

The crowd was gathering and Courfeyrac's friends were clumped around him. He was the center of the energy, the light from the stage fell on his face, making strange shadows that were at one moment mysterious and inviting and intensely dark.

The lights went down, and there was the tremendous energy of collective held breath. Courfeyrac nudged him with his shoulder and leaned in.

"Montparnasse's band is first," he whispered. "I would've introduced you but he tends not to be the most amicable guy right before performances."

"He even gets pissed with me," Jehan laughed.

The lights went up on Patron-Minette and harsh guitar echoed over the crowd.

Montparnasse, clearly the front man, stood triumphant in knee high black combat boots. Tattoos curled on his neck, and his black jacket looked like silk, shimmering darkly. He shook his thick dark hair, some of it getting caught in the countless earrings down his ears.

"Wow, he looks..."

"Hottest punk rocker of our generation, according to Rolling Stone," Jehan said.

"And according to you," Corfeyrac laughed.

"Why didn't you tell me about R?" Enjolras was yelling at Combeferre over the music.

"We thought it was better for you two to work it out by yourselves," he said, surprisingly calm in the face of menacing blonde rage.

"We! Did everyone know?"

"You two talked?"

He sighed exaggeratedly, and Courfeyrac looked at Marius slyly.

"Yes, we're um...meeting up later tonight. To talk..."

"To talk huh?" Combeferre replied. "Okay then."

***

Courfeyrac was pressed up against him and the crowd was jumping, one solid mass of excited energy. Courf was whistling and cheering and grinning so wide Marius felt lightheaded. He was shouting out lyrics Marius didn't know or care much about, because Courfeyrac had turned and seemed to be singing only to him.

"IT'S LOUD," He laughed, as the bass built "ARE YOU OKAY? YOU LOOK HOT."

"WHAT?" He yelled back.

"I MEAN YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE HOT."

"I'M PERFECT."

"I THINK SO TOO."

"WHAT?"

"COURFEYRAC, STOP TRYING TO FLIRT WITH HIM WHEN HE CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING," Combeferre punched him on the shoulder.

"I'M PRACTICING."

Marius could hear every word.

***

"So what do you think?"

"Think of what?"

"Of this, of everything," Courfeyrac replied with a grand sweep of his hand. They were perched on the hood of Marius's car, the light was dying, blurring into a shadowy sunset as the music pulsed into the atmosphere. The lyrics were clear, even from the end of the furthest lot.

Courfeyrac's eyes were trained on him, waiting patiently for a response. His curls were damp with sweat, his expression still bright with a weary kind of enthusiasm. It reminded him of picnics with Eponine, once she'd stirred up considerable pollen by cartwheeling through the garden, her long hair tangled with grass, panting and reaching for a 7up as he tried not to sneeze.

"I think it's beautiful."

He laughed. "Beautiful wasn't the adjective I was expecting. Loud, exciting maybe, but beautiful's a stretch."

"No, it's not really," he said, then, feeling daring, added. "With you here it's not."

"What is that supposed to...?"

Marius's phone buzzed, and he jumped rather exaggeratedly and pulled it out to check the caller ID.

"Damn, it's my friend Cosette. I should take this." Courfeyrac nodded and Marius hopped off the hood and wandered a bit away for privacy.

"Marius darling are you alright? Ep told me you were at a concert alone? I'm sorry I stole her away from you."

"I'm fine, actually I met someone."

"Met someone?" She said excitedly. "Who?"

"His name's Courfeyrac. He took my extra ticket and I've been hanging out with his friends."

"You, Marius Pontmercy? Oh my goodness I'm so proud."

Marius flushed. "Don't speak so soon, I haven't asked for his number yet."

"You're going to ask this boy out! Aren't you brave this evening?"

Marius looked down at the gravel at his feet and nodded to himself. "I'm sorry, by the way, that I've been so difficult these last few months." He gritted his teeth, and started grinding them nervously.

"No Marius don't apologize. You've been doing really well, sometimes just managing is enough," She went all social worker on him for a minute, which was unsurprising considering she was one. "Speaking of which, I hate to bring this up, but your family called me after you didn't pick up at home--God knows why they have my cell--and they want you to look through you're grandfather's things before they pack it all up tomorrow night. It was in his will that you have your pick of whatever you want in the house. I told them I'd tell you, but I can call back and say you don't want to look if you need me to. I know you're bad on the phone with them."

Marius felt his heart pounding. There it was, looming in front of him: the family disappointment returning home to scrounge for artifacts. "I...I don't know. I'll call them myself I guess."

"Okay sweetie. Stay safe out there, wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, don't drink too much and all that. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Everything alright?" Courfeyrac looked concerned.

Marius paled. "I uh...it was my friend Cosette. I'm supposed to go through my grandfather's stuff before they take it all away."

His expression softened. "That sounds tough, I'm sorry."

"It doesn't help that I haven't spoken with my family in years, and I was still trying to figure out how I felt about my grandfather when he died. I was estranged from him especially."

"What happened?" He stopped himself. "I mean if you want to talk about it."

"Well he hated my father, and lied to me about him for years. I lived with him after my mother died. He was never kind to me growing up, but he gave me a place to live and a good education. That is until I found out my father wasn't what my grandfather said he was, and by that time my dad was in his deathbed and I'd missed any sort of relationship we could have."

"What did you do?" He'd scooted in closer, so their legs were touching.

"I left, moved out with my car and $20 to my name and got a job at a bookstore. I lived in my car for awhile, ate McDonalds and ramen for weeks," he shuddered. "Then I moved in with Cosette."

He smiled slightly. "And things were great for awhile. I got the job I have now and I made friends..."

"But?"

"But he reached out to me, apologized, wanted to make things right again. And I missed having a real family, like biological family I mean."

"So you were willing to forgive him?

"I was willing to try, and then, again, it was too late."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry for dumping on you."

"And now?"

"Now what? He's gone," Marius muttered. "Now they all hate me and nothing will ever change."

"Screw how your family feels. How are you?"

"I..." Marius looked down at his hands. The sun was setting and whoever had just preformed had finished their set and was thanking the crowd to their clamorous applause. He wasn't sure he should be talking about this with a guy he very much wanted to take out to dinner (think small Pontmercy.) "I had a lot of trouble with depression and anxiety when I was a kid. My family ignored me, which didn't do much for my self esteem, and when I wasn't being ignored I was being yelled at. They weren't thrilled at the fact that I'm gay either. And all this, missing my shot at fixing my family again. It kind of brought it all back. I've kind of been holed up in my apartment for a couple of weeks." I feel like I'm 13 and falling apart again, he didn't add.

"So what was today? You're out here, in a strange place with strange music and strange people you just met. You're sure you had fun?" He was so close now he could smell his sunscreen, and the gross peach flavored beer he'd seen him drink on his breath.

He nodded. "It was a good day."

"You know," Courfeyrac muttered. "I was going to ask if I could kiss you. Because the sun's setting and I'm a little drunk and your sweet and cute and have just confirmed that you are in fact a homosexual, but I don't want to freak you out. Kissing strangers may not be the best course of action on your first venture back into the real world."

"I was going to ask for your number," Marius replied. "Because I'm not quite as forward as you are."

Courfeyrac grinned, and Marius realized how crooked his teeth were. Somehow that made his smile twice as endearing. "I can do that. That's perfect."

"I liked your proposal too." And Courfeyrac kissed him, the second the words left his mouth, this beautiful oddball boy's lips were on his, and his hands were tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his curls were brushing his cheek.

Marius kissed him back, and he hoped he was doing alright because he was very much out of practice and had never kissed someone who looked like Courfeyrac.

So that's what he told him, when they broke away, and Courfeyrac laughed harder than he'd ever seen someone laugh, and kissed him again. "That was perfect. You're doing it perfectly."

They broke away again, after a few minutes. "You're blushing," Courfeyrac smirked.

"So are you," and he was, face crimson and hands twitching on Marius's thighs.

"Do you have to go?"

"I've got work to do tomorrow. And my friends will be worried if I stay."

"Okay, call me okay?"

Marius grinned. "Keep me posted on the drama of your friends' social lives."

"That is my area of expertise."

Marius cranked the radio on the way back, shouting the lyrics like he was still there.

The phone rang too early the next morning. Marius poked his head up out from his comforter and fumbled around for his phone, vision still blurry and ears ringing. "Hello?" He croaked, after he'd spend the first five rings trying to figure out where the answer button was.

"Marius, you sound tired. Late night?" Eponine sounded oddly chipper.

"Yeah," he muttered. "What do you need Ep?"

"To know the scoop Pontmercy, and to remind you that today's your only chance to get any of your grandfather's things. Did you call your family?"

"Yeah, I left a message last night," he yawned. He didn't want to get up yet, though he was hungry and in desperate need of coffee. "I'm going over there at three."

"So spill, who's this guy?"

"He needed an extra ticket, so I gave it to him...and then we hung out."

"Hung out or made out?"

"Um...both."

She laughed. "Oh my god. You got his number right? You're going to call him? What is this mystery man's name?"

"Courfeyrac, and yes I'm going to call him."

"Monday, you're going to tell me all about him Monday."

"Alright Ep, see you Monday."

He hung up and laid back in his bed. Morning was creeping in through the curtains, and he had a handsome stranger to call.


End file.
